The Art of Perception
by jennifersilva1013
Summary: "All were made out to the same person, Jane Moorson, signed by a man she'd never heard of and drafted out of Robert's account." Cora's discovery leads her imagination to run wild
1. Chapter 1

The house was quieter than it had been in a long while, Cora noticed, as she left the stifling heat of her room. Walking by the empty rooms of the upper gallery, a brief moment of sadness tightened her chest as unbidden thoughts clouded her mind. The Abbey could be incredibly intimidating and lonely when unoccupied and Cora had forgotten this. She was reminded of the first year of her marriage, before Mary filled the silent spaces with her baby cries and laughter, when the house was more museum then home. It had been a difficult year, trying to fit herself into the mold of the family, like a square peg, tiptoeing around so as not to stir the space too brusquely with her new world ideas and American mannerisms. Cora shuddered at the memory of it.

Walking gingerly down the main staircase, Cora recalled her conversation with Robert that morning, mentally ticking off the family's plans for for the day. Robert and Tom were meeting with Murray at Grantham Arms, Mary was off to Ripon for some errands. Edith had been in London for most of the week with Rose. Cora pondered her middle daughter's behavior as of late. When she wasn't in London, she was out of the house, somewhere on the grounds or in the village she supposed. She was vague when questioned and made herself scarce most of the time. Something was clearly going on, and the trepidation Cora felt at what that something could be almost outweighed her concern at knowing.

"Milady?" Carson's deep tones interrupted her train of thought and she was momentarily startled at hearing a voice outside of her own head. She gripped the banister to steady herself and Carson stepped forward.

"Should you be downstairs milday?" Carson's eyebrows furrowed together like two squirrels battling in the middle of his forehead and Cora had to swallow the giggle bubbling in her throat. Perhaps her fever was higher than she thought.

"Oh I'm perfectly alright Carson. Just a tiny cold. I am getting stir crazy in my room however and was on my way to the library to find something amusing to read." Cora allowed the butler to help her down the remaining stairs, the few days spent in bed draining her energy more than she had anticipated.

"I have strict orders from his lordship before he left to make sure you didn't tax yourself." Carson said in his most somber voice.

Cora's laugh turned into a slight cough. "He is overreacting just a tad but I won't tell if you don't."

Carson bowed in assent and left her at the door of the library. Cora wandered into the room. The library had always been one of her favorite places in the abbey, despite its tendency to be a little dark. The volumes occupying its many shelves had been her most comforting companions when she first came to England and the musty smell of antiquated paper and worn leather was like a favorite blanket enveloping her in their warmth. As a young bride she could almost close her eyes and imagine sitting in the library of her parents home, the smell an exact replica, reading by the fire as her father quietly worked at his desk. The similarity helped her feel a little less alone.

The windows looked out over the lawn and drive, offering a grand view of the front of the estate. She recalled watching Mary and Edith's first riding lessons from those windows, her eyes screwing shut every time they would take a jump on their young ponies. Sybil would be bouncing on her knee, arms outstretched toward her sisters as they galloped around, always so eager to join the bigger girls play.

A smile spread across her face as she peered out into the summer haze and saw Sybbie running ahead of Nanny, who wheeled a sleeping George in his pram. As usual, the sight of her grandchildren caused a content sigh to escape her lips and she lingered at the window, watching until they were small dots on the horizon moving further down the path.

Turning, Cora spotted a number of letters on the desk and feeling slightly listless, went over to look them through, wondering if any had come for her. Picking up the stack and fanning them out, she quickly saw that her name was not on any of them and she sighed, dropping them back on the blotter. Cora was almost turned from the desk when a bundle of ledger receipts, sticking out of an envelope, caught her attention. She wasn't sure where the impulse came from that made her reach for them but before she could think too heavily on it they were in her hands. All were made out to the same person, Jane Moorson, signed by a man she'd never heard of and drafted out of Robert's account. The notes indicated that the checks were made for _Freddie Moorson-Ripon Grammar tuition._

Cora descended slowly into Robert's desk chair, splaying her hands over the ink blotter and placing the envelope back where she found it. She worried her lower lip, thinking, sorting out the information in her mind. Robert was paying for some boy's education, and had been for a number of years it looked like. Some boy unknown to her; the checks all made out to some woman. Jane Moorson. She thought on the name, teasing her memory for a connection and although it sounded vaguely familiar, she could not place its origin. Drumming her fingers against the oak of the desk, Cora felt a growing tightness in her chest as her imagination brought forth unbidden explanations to the mystery.

Jane Moorson. Cora kept thinking it over. No acquaintance came to mind. Getting up from the chair, Cora went quickly into the drawing room, rushing to her own desk and pulling out daily duty ledgers. The entire running of the household for the last ten years could be found in her notebooks. Flipping through with agitated speed, it took only a half hour to see the name in print. _Jane Moorson._ House maid. 1919.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the muffled sounds of Robert's voice in the foyer. Springing from the chair she bounded quietly over to the couch and sat down quickly, arranging herself just as the door opened. Robert looked around the room before settling his gaze on her and cocked his head, drawing his lips into a mock stern line. Cora felt an impulsive sting of tears scratch at her eyes and she blinked a few times, forcing them back.

"Now, I thought you were going to be a good patient and stay in bed." Robert admonished.

Cora forced a sheepish grin on her face before looking down. Robert sat beside her and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, letting his lips linger over her skin and she felt herself start to tremble slightly. Touching her forehead, Robert frowned.

"You feel quite warm darling. Really, can't I persuade you to go back upstairs? What are you doing down here anyway?"

Cora let her eyes rise to his, searching deeply, scrutinizing the concerned bunching of his brow. The questions she had were so close to the surface, almost words waiting to be voiced. The care in his eyes silenced her, made her swallow her suspicion. She couldn't think of anything he had ever done to make her question his fidelity. And yet...Cora shook her head and closed her eyes breathing heavily.

"I was getting bored, dear, so I came down." Cora explained, hoping to cover up the emotions warring within her. "I do feel like I could lie down again however, so I'll say good afternoon."

Robert rose with her, holding her hands and kissing her on the forehead before releasing her. Walking slowly back to her bedroom, Cora tried to puzzle out an explanation for what she had found. Her mind failed in producing a satisfactory scenario and her stomach clenched with renewed fear as she continued to come back to the only truth that fit.

Going over to her window, she gazed outward, not seeing the grounds, but those hard, exhausting years of the war. She couldn't remember a shakier time for her marriage, even their courtship and first year had seemed easier. Robert's aloof indifference hadn't stung so badly when they were first married as it had those years when they should have been coming together, rallying behind their growing daughters in a tumultuous world turned upside down by war. How many evenings had he sat on her settee or looked at her from the door of his dressing room with contempt, rolling his eyes at her Americanness, her 'unfeeling' actions. She somehow had become the embodiment of his growing sense of futility and even as they were pulled further apart she had been at a loss to fix the chasm. At some point it became easier to throw herself into something outside of their own heartache than to try and bridge the gap back to Robert. While she found something to do, he found someone to love apparently.

Cora remembered her vividly now, mousy and innocent looking with big blue eyes, a younger, plainer version of herself. She recalled the girl always being around, cleaning, serving, always entering during the clipped and tense conversations she and Robert would have. Going to her bed, she sat down heavily, running her hand over the brocade, her mind conjuring all sorts of torturous images. He had spent many nights in his own room then, feigning a back ache or a headache or a need to do some mysterious work that just could not wait. There had been many opportunities for them to be alone. Finally laying down, Cora was kept awake, wondering how much of his heart he had given to this woman, and how much of it remained in her own possession.


	2. Chapter 2

Robert studied his sleeping wife's face in the faint morning light. Just yesterday morning she had looked much better. Her gentle admonitions that it was "just a minor ailment" beginning to sooth his worry but she had gone to bed in the afternoon and stayed there, missing dinner. She asked him to sleep in his dressing room last night, "for his own welfare". The pallor of her skin and the slump of her shoulders when he kissed her goodnight had kept him staring in the dark for a good while.

Cora came to awareness slowly, her aching body protesting at the small movements accompanied with waking. She had tossed all night, a heaviness settling in her chest and preventing her from getting comfortable. Finally, somewhere around dawn, she had fallen to her exhaustion, strange dreams preventing her mind from finding release. She had dreamt she was in her bed, ill, but it had been years ago. O'Brien wiped at her brow and she sought Robert in a fever haze but could not find him.

The air in the room shifted and she opened her eyes quickly, the brightness of the sun making them water as she adjusted. Blinking a few times, the blur that sat before her slowly came into focus, until Robert's concerned frown became clearer. Cora felt vulnerable, just out of a sleep that had been anything but restful. Robert reached for and clasped her hand in his own and she had a nauseating sense of deja vu. She had felt so guilty then, apologizing for her neglect of him, never understanding how far that neglect may have pushed him. Did it still push him? The idea hadn't taken shape in her mind until that moment, that whatever happened with this Jane wasn't just confined to the past, but had leaked into their present. What if he went to her regularly? The damage of the war exacerbated by the loss of her money and then her hurtful behavior after Sybil, not to mention the devastating loss of Matthew. Had he gone to that woman for solace? Cora cleared her throat, needing to dispel the burning tightness engulfing it.

"Cora?" Robert questioned. He said her name so gently that it split her insides apart and before she knew what was happening or could put an iron cage around her emotions, she was crying, attempting to cover her eyes with her hands, as though it would hide her from him.

Of course he launched out of the seat he occupied and rushed to her, trying to pry her hands away from her face. When she refused to budge, he settled on running his hands up and down her arms, repeating platitudes meant to soothe her. Cora was so wrapped up in her misery, she missed him ringing the bell, only aware that he had moved when she heard him order Baxter to send for Dr Clarkson at once. Swallowing down the rest of her tears in great gulps, Cora shook her head and slouched away from Robert's desperate attempts to calm her.

"I'm fine, Robert." Cora insisted dismissively, her tears all but dried up.

Her words seemed to anger Robert inexplicably. He threw up his hands in disbelief and blew an agitated breath out of his mouth. "This is not 'fine'."

"I don't need the doctor." Cora whispered, feeling suddenly deflated and drained. She sunk deeper down into the covers of her bed, hoping to escape his probing eyes. She really just wanted to be left alone, not wanting to discuss the issue further. When she closed her eyes and feigned sleep, Robert's exasperated sigh and the sound of his footsteps leaving told her she had gotten her wish. For the moment.

Cora spent the next few days using her illness as an excuse to stay cloistered in her room. In truth, the fever had broken and only a slight cough lingered, but that was a secret she and Baxter shared. Robert kept his distance at her suggestion but not without letting the hurt bleed through his blue eyes as he blinked a few times when she continued to send him to his dressing room. The tension between them was clearly baffling him and she did nothing to ease the awkwardness that was building during their limited interactions. Robert had not pressed her about what was troubling her since the episode in her room and though it was what she wanted, a part of her resented that he didn't push further.

* * *

It took a half hour of her pushing breakfast around her plate and trying to read The Sketch before she remembered the date. Putting the paper down, she bit her lower lip. This was the first anniversary she could remember, with the exception of those while Robert was in Africa, that she had woken up alone. Cora's chin began to quiver as she looked at his vacant spot on the bed. She had heard the door to his dressing room open and close much earlier as he started his day and so even their usual morning chat before breakfast was not to occur. Today of all days, it seemed his aloofness was finally going to match her own and a large part of Cora blamed herself for remaining silent and letting the little knowledge she had fester.

Once downstairs, Cora was at a loss as to how to spend her day. As was the case all too often lately, the house was deserted save her and the servants. The silence darkened her already stormy mood. She and Robert weren't ones to make a big fuss on the date of their anniversary but they usually made a point to spend the day together, either walking the grounds or taking in a show in London. But then she always made those arrangements, not he, and she had been too wrapped up in her suspicions to plan. Cora wondered if he even remembered the date.

Finding herself in the drawing room, Cora picked up her needlework, but stared at it blankly, her mind refusing to stop ruminating. If Robert had sought the comfort of another woman years ago, when she was still relatively young, what kept him from running now that she was so much older. Cora had never thought herself a very vain person but even she had felt the twinges of sorrow lately that inspecting ones own wrinkling face brought on. She was far from the fresh faced girl that had walked through Downton's doors thirty-five years prior, older now than even Violet had been at the time. If she had been told she would feel even less secure in her position now than she did that day so long ago she would not have believed it and it cut her to think it was true. At least then, she had the foolish confidence of youth, of knowing if nothing else, the future lay before her and could only get better with time.

"Mama?" Mary's voice broke through her thoughts and so absorbed in them was she, that she jumped when her daughter spoke, pricking herself with the needle laying lax in her hand.

"I didn't mean to startle you!" Mary laughed, a sound which petered out once Cora looked up at her. It was when Mary's smirk faltered and her eyebrow peaked upward that Cora became aware of the wetness of her cheeks. Swiping at them quickly she shook her head and forced herself to smile.

"I was daydreaming darling. Did you need something?" Cora concentrated on saying her words evenly and lightly but Mary still looked at her with mild concern before sitting next to her on the sofa.

"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to come into Ripon with me. George needs new shoes and when I mentioned it to Nanny she also said that Sybbie is growing out of her nightgowns. Would you be interested in some light shopping?"

The relief of being given an excuse to leave Downton for a few hours brought fresh tears of gratitude to her eyes. She wanted to throw her arms around Mary in thanks, but settled instead for a generous squeezing of her daughter's hand while she nodded her assent.

Mary cocked her head and pursed her lips, surveying her mother critically. "Are you sure you're well?"

"Yes, yes!" Cora replied, standing and waving her hand. "It must be the idea of them growing so fast that has me sentimental." She lied.

"If you're sure…" Mary replied, sounding unconvinced.


	3. Chapter 3

Cora and Mary arrived home just as the dressing gong was echoing through the halls. The trip had invigorated her some, giving her a respite from all of the morose thoughts that plagued her. Losing herself in buying items for her grandchildren had been a gentle diversion, but now that she was back home, the sadness from earlier began to seep into her bones again. Not looking forward to dinner, Cora silently agreed when Baxter suggested a particular dress and barely noticed that her hair was done up in a new and intricate style. Standing after Baxter was done, all she saw was an old woman who was slowly losing the once firm grasp she had on her life. Baxter left, looking a little crestfallen that her hard work went unacknowledged and Cora waited.

After five minutes she went to her night table and pulled out the small box there, turning it over in her hands and caressing the velvet fabric encasing it. She planned on giving it to Robert before dinner, the gift she had painstakingly picked out months ago. Opening it, she looked in on the gold signet ring, the letters of their combined initials carved in a delicate scroll.

As the clock ticked away the minutes it became clear that Robert was not going to walk her down to dinner, the door between their rooms remained unmoved. Cora took a shaky breath, willing herself not to mess the make-up Baxter had applied and put the box on the table nearest his side of the bed before turning and leaving the bedroom.

On the rare occasion that Cora wasn't the first in the drawing room she could usually hear the soft murmuring of voices filtering through the doors but silence greeted her outside the room. Hesitating briefly, she opened the door to find it deserted. Her heart sped up to an uncomfortable rhythm in her chest. Could they possibly have gone in without her? Shock caused her to stand in the middle of the room, her mouth open and eyes wide. The clearing of a throat broke through her stupor and she turned slowly to see Carson, waiting patiently for her.

"This way milady." He said as if seeing the Countess of Grantham late to dinner was a perfectly natural occurrence. He escorted her out of the drawing room and then opened the dining room door.

"Her Ladyship." Carson announced before stepping aside to let her enter.

Cora stepped back a moment, studying the butler before entering to a thunderous, "Happy Anniversary", sung out by the various attendees at their very full dinner table. Stunned, Cora let a softly gasped 'oh' escape her lips before effortlessly following it with the demure smile she had perfected over the years.

Robert came from his side of the table and took her hand, pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek and whispering "Happy Anniversary, darling" in her ear.

Her public smile lost a little of its luster when she looked up at him. "I thought you'd forgotten…" she trailed off, looking away at the cloud that passed over his face before he led her to her chair.

Once the initial shock had worn off, a few glasses of wine helped to clear the lingering malaise Cora had found herself in and she began enjoying the company of their family and friends. Her dining companion was entertaining and charming, if not a little too lavish in his attentions. In actuality, she was a little puzzled as to why Simon Bricker had been invited to the intimate dinner. Robert had made his acquaintance years ago when looking for a piece of art to furnish the Dower House but she hadn't seen or heard talk of him since. Apparently Robert did many things that she was unaware of.

Robert attempted to get her attention throughout the meal. His long gazes and the slight upturn of his lips when their eyes met began to melt some of the icy feelings of betrayal she had succumed to since discovering his secret. Deep down, she wanted to believe it was just an innocent kindness on his part, she needed it to be just that. Thinking that he had a mistress, that he possibly had a son outside of their own marriage, was too painful to fathom for very long. For the time, Cora pushed all desperate speculation aside and let herself flirt discreetly with her husband across the table.

* * *

Cora sat in bed, arms folded and biting the skin around her thumb. Robert always chastised her for indulging in such a base habit, but he was not in the room yet, and so she abused the skin on her fingers to her content while ruminating over the day. Her emotions felt raw, as though the slightest brush could send her in one of many warring directions. She had started out hurt and rebuffed and then touched by Robert's planning of their anniversary dinner only for the pendulum to swing to disappointment when he held up his glass for a toast, declaring her the "the best companion in the world." Was that what their marriage was boiled down to, companionship? Was she now interchangeable with Isis? If Cora were fair, she knew it would be highly out of his character to share any deeper feelings in such a public setting, but that did nothing to dampen the ache her want of a more tender sentiment left. And then there had been the painting, presented to her by Robert in the library. She was drawn to it instantly, until Robert revealed that it was Mr Bricker whom he commissioned to pick it out, Robert's only instruction that it should be "special".

_Mr Bricker took her aside once everyone else's attention had tired of the piece of art._

"_Its by a prominent American Impressionist, Frederick Childe Hassam. I thought it was fitting._" _Cora had smiled wanly at his words. "It's called Geraniums."_

_"Lovely," Cora replied, her interest dwindling quickly as Mr Bricker stepped closer into her personal space._

_"Did you know that coral is the gift for a thirty-fifth wedding anniversary? The geraniums seemed more coral than red to me." Bricker explained._

_"Oh really?" Cora asked, feigning interest. It was becoming more abhorrent to her that this stranger had put so much intimate thought into her anniversary gift, while her husband just signed the check._

Robert entered the room, interrupting her remembrance of the conversation from hours before. Cora tried not to let his shy smile as he untied the belt of his robe disarm her, but she often found herself unable to resist the boyish transformation his face went under when he looked at her as he was. Making his way to bed, Robert settled beside her, the box she had left on his nightstand catching his eye. Cocking his eyebrows up in mischief his eyes shifted between her and the velvet box. Cora nodded in it's direction and he eagerly snatched it up, wasting no time in opening the lid and revealing the ring in side. Robert turned to her with bright, gleaming eyes before lifting the ring out of the box carefully and studying it. She watched as he ran his finger over the etching on top and then as he turned the ring to its side, reading the inscription of their wedding date hidden in the band.

"Cora, this is beautiful." Robert finally said, his voice thicker than usual.

"I'm glad you like it." She stated simply.

Putting the ring carefully back in it's box, Robert set it upon the table and then slid down next to her, propping his head in his hand and stroking the side of her face, studying her.

"Did you like the painting?" He asked.

Cora didn't trust herself to speak, so she closed her eyes and nodded her head in the affirmative. His smile reached all the way up to his eyes and she felt guilt turn her stomach, thinking back on the reaction she first had to the gift. Perhaps she would have been more pleased with it had it not come on the heels of her doubts about him.

"What's been troubling you?" Robert's sudden change of subject startled Cora and her silence propelled him forward. "I know something has. I wish you'd tell me."

Cora weighed her response. She couldn't very well ask him about Jane on the night of their anniversary. Her heart wouldn't be able to take the conversation, but she knew it was no longer fair to keep her suspicions to herself. The details her imagination conjured these past few days was driving a wedge between them and eventually Robert would not be content to keep silent about it.

"It's nothing really, darling. Perhaps just being under the weather recently and a touch more nostalgic lately have gotten me a little out of sorts." Cora attempted to look genuine and though a lingering doubt remained in Robert's gaze, he accepted her explanation.

"Well, if you're feeling nostalgic, perhaps we should relive some of the escapades from early in our marriage." He said with a mischievous turn of his eye.

Cora lost herself in the deep kiss that followed Robert's words, willing herself to focus on the two of them instead of the questions that still festered.


	4. Chapter 4

Cora sat on the bench, twisting her ring around her finger, staring into the space around her. She knew she needed to say something to Robert that afternoon. The uncertainty was eating at her, making it difficult to go about her days. She needed to know, one way or the other. The sound of footsteps upon the grass behind her interrupted her thoughts and she felt a surge of adrenaline, thinking it might be Robert. Cora let out the breath she was holding when she turned and saw Mr Bricker approaching her. He stopped before her and bowed slightly, tipping his hat and she smiled in return.

"Lady Grantham, I wanted to bid you goodbye and to thank you for a lovely evening last night." Simon Bricker said, his appreciation a little too exaggerated in tone.

"Mr Bricker, you must thank my husband. He put the party together quite by himself." Cora responded.

"Well, if you will be so kind as to extend my gratitude to Lord Grantham I would be in your debt." Mr Bricker bowed again before turning to leave but then stopped, looking back at her. "If you are ever in London, please make sure to call on me at the gallery. It would be an honor to give you a tour."

Cora looked at him hard for a moment, taking in his confident smirk and the gleam of mischief in his eye. Her intuition was telling her that Simon Bricker was a shameless flirt and not entirely harmless. "That is very kind of you Mr. Bricker. I shall consider it."

Mr Bricker laughed lightly. "Oh Lady Grantham, I'm not kind. I like to surround myself with beautiful things….and beautiful people. It would be for my own selfish satisfaction to spend an afternoon with you."

Cora felt her back stiffen and she looked down with fluttering eyelashes, shocked at his boldness, the heat rising on her cheeks. When she looked back up, she had the feeling Mr Bricker was appraising her, as one would a piece of art, and feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she rose and bid him safe travels, before hurrying back to the protective confines of Downton.

* * *

"Baxter, might you tell his Lordship to come up once he's arrived back home?" Cora asked her maid as Baxter helped her into her robe and arranged her hair.

"Certainly milday." Baxter replied, picking up the wet towels Cora had just discarded. The woman gave her a slight smile before wordlessly leaving the room.

Cora reclined on her settee and closed her eyes, attempting to calm the nerves that fluttered around her chest in anticipation of her talk with Robert. She meant to chose her words carefully, wanting to neatly arrange what she would say to him. But her eyelids grew heavy in the fading afternoon and she couldn't fight the pull of sleep. Cora startled awake at the sensation of soft circles being traced on the back of her hand. She opened her eyes to see Robert looking down on her.

"I didn't mean to disturb you darling. You looked so peaceful." Robert said. "Baxter said you wanted to see me but I can let you rest."

Cora's ears rang with the quickening of her pulse, knowing she could delay no longer now that Robert was there. She cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly dry and concentrated on taking even breaths as she gathered her scattered thoughts.

"Who is Jane Moorson?" Cora blurted out, unable to come up with some more eloquent way of starting the conversation and going right for the heart of the trouble.

Robert's eyes widened and he withdrew his hand quickly from her. Cora watched in sickened fascination as his face paled and his lips became bloodless. She nodded and blew out a shaky breath before pushing herself off the settee, needing to stand, hoping the change in position would alleviate the pain beginning in her stomach. Robert loosened his collar and cleared his throat several times, a nervous habit he had that put Cora more on edge than his words. His continued silence took her anguish and turned it into blazing anger and she whirled on him suddenly.

"I take the question back. I know WHO she is. She worked here. I suppose what I am really asking is WHAT is she to you."

Robert opened and closed his mouth several times. "How do….?"

"There were receipts on your desk in the library. In plain sight, for a Freddie Moorson's schooling. I'm assuming her son?" Cora's face twisted into a grimace. "Is he yours?"

Robert stood at once. "NO!" He said forcefully and Cora closed her eyes, pressing her fists into her stomach.

Robert began to pace, putting a hand hastily through his hair, the perfectly placed locks suddenly made wild, a caged animal let loose. "I know how this may look, Cora, but it was nothing….really…."

"What does that mean Robert?" Cora implored, the conversation not going at all how she secretly had hoped. Something clearly had happened between Robert and the maid.

Robert slumped on the bed and looked at his clenched hands for a moment before raising his eyes to meet hers. They were filled with apology and the urge to be ill was almost too much for her to overcome.

"We kissed. A few times. And although it was still incredibly dishonorable of me, that is all that happened. I beg you to believe me." Robert said quietly.

Cora sat down heavily on the settee. "Did you love her?"

Robert stared at her intently. "In thirty-five years, I've loved no one else but you. That I can promise you."

"Then why, Robert?" Cora's anger and hurt were subsiding, a tide of negative emotions going out to sea. She believed what he said to her. He was Robert, afterall.

Robert sighed. "I have no good reason. It was a strange time. I felt useless, castrated almost." Robert let out a mirthless laugh. "And she was so attentive….I used her to make myself feel better but I only felt worse and worse."

"And Freddie?" Cora asked.

"Her son. Her husband had died in the war. He was trying to get into Ripon Grammar and I sent a good word for him. I felt guilty about the way I abused her affections so I paid his way. I have continued to pay his way."

"And has it helped?" Cora inquired. "Has paying his tuition assuaged your guilt?"

Robert shrugged. "Perhaps it has."

He rose and walked carefully towards her, sitting close on the settee and picking up her hand. "It's been nothing compared to the guilt I've had over going behind your back. Then and now. It's there everyday."

"Robert," Cora whispered, shaking her head, the movement letting a few tears escape from behind her lashes. "There are worst sins then a few kisses."

"You don't despise me?" Robert's voice was thick and tinged with awe.

Looking into his eyes, Cora cupped the side of his face with her free hand and shook her head. Robert let out a strangled sound, the sudden gasp of a dying man brought back to life and wrapped his arms around her fiercely, holding on tightly. He cried into the softness of her neck, the unburdening of his secret the popping of a cork setting him free. He wondered how many times she could forgive him in this lifetime before she grew weary of being the benevolent one.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay in updating. Life is crazy and I've been a little pre-occupied with an idea for another fic in the works. Thanks again to everyone who has followed, liked and reviewed this story! You all are great!**

* * *

Cora studied the sleeping face of her husband in the early morning hours, following the paths that years had made in his face, smoother now in sleep than they would be in a few hours. She was over the business with Jane Moorson….mostly. However, there was a part of her that held onto a lingering sense of hurt disappointment. Since becoming Robert's wife she never had looked at anyone else with the idea of romance, it never occurred to her to. She loved Robert wholey, even those first frustrating months when he gave her little more than brotherly affection. Perhaps it was naivety, perhaps it was blind loyalty, but she couldn't fathom a scenario that would drive her to crave the attention of someone other than him. That he had encouraged and participated in the flirtation with the maid threw her view of their world off a little. A sigh from across the pillows broke her thoughts and she forced a smile into the heavy lidded face of her husband.

"You're up early." Robert's voice was still gruff with sleep.

"Yes." Cora replied quietly. "Remember, I'm bringing Rose to London this morning."

Robert closed his eyes and nodded. "That's right. I do wish I could accompany you but this business with the Wrigley farm…."

"We'll be back in a few days, Robert. It's alright." Cora settled against him and Robert held her, letting the warmth of her body lull him back to the verge of sleep. He felt her kiss his hairline and he squeezed her arm before she shifted away and left the bed, getting ready to start her day.

* * *

Cora drummed her fingers on the oak of the desk, staring at the telephone. She reached for the earpiece, then dropped her hand quickly and picked up the beat her fingers had just abandoned. After a few more seconds, she looked over her left shoulder, then her right before hastily picking up the piece again, this time allowing the operator to direct her call. She almost hung up, the waiting making her feel her decision foolish, when the call was answered.

"Simon Bricker." The static voice on the other end stated briskly.

Cora cleared her throat before replying, trying to infuse her voice with nonchalance. "Mr Bricker. This is Lady Grantham. I believe you called the house this morning."

"Ahh yes!" Simon replied, his voice becoming less formal than the greeting he just delivered and more soft. "I heard you were in London, Lady Grantham and thought I would invite you and Lord Grantham to the gallery this evening. We've a wonderful display at the moment."

Cora paused, thinking about the invitation. It was her second night in London and Rose would be out again. The idea of spending another night alone in the large house depressed her. And yet she was hesitant to outright accept Mr Bricker's invitation. She had never gone anywhere alone with a man other than Robert.

"Well, Mr Bricker, Lord Grantham was not able to come to London this time. It would only be myself…" Cora said.

"Ohh?" Did Cora detect a bit of happy surprise in his tone? "It would be my honor to escort you still, Lady Grantham, if you are free."

Biting her lip Cora thought about the request and against her better judgement said, "Why not, Mr Bricker. It sounds lovely."

* * *

Robert walked quickly down the busy street, twirling his walking stick and whistling softly under his breath. Matters at the Wrigley farm had been dealt with sooner than expected and with Tom more than able to wrap up any loose ends, Robert had left for London, intent on surprising his wife. He had been a touch disappointed when he arrived at Grantham House only to be informed her ladyship had gone to the gallery, but perhaps it wasn't such a bad turn of events. Hopefully he could coax her to join him for a late dinner and then they could return to the house together.

He was almost in view of the gallery's stately entrance when he spotted a couple walking toward him. Robert would know the outlines of her silhouette anywhere, having committed it to memory for the last thirty five years. The street lamps illuminated the pair and Robert watched as they walked, Cora smiling down at the street as Simon Bricker told her something that made the corners of her mouth turn up.

Something in the way the man leaned toward her, like a magnet drawn to metal, made Robert's nostrils flare. Sticking to the shadows, Robert watched as the two stopped and continued to speak, now looking each other in the eye. Feeling his pulse quicken, he couldn't help but analyze Cora's smile, how it reached her eyes in genuine pleasure. He couldn't help but notice the way Bricker didn't take his eyes off of her or how much of her personal space he invaded. And then Bricker bent down slowly while lifting his hand up toward her face and Cora closed her eyes in anticipation and Robert's throat tightened painfully just as his stomach flipped in its cavity and his breathing increased to a gasping for air. Every cell in his body cried for him to look away but he was frozen, paralyzed with the grief of knowing that once Cora kissed Bricker he would not be able to so easily forgive her as she had him. He was a hypocrite and he knew it but that was the plain fact.

Cora could feel Simon's breath even as she held her own, anticipating his touch. Her mind went blank for a moment as she closed her eyes, but the image that met her in the darkness behind her lids was not Simon but Robert, as he was a few days ago, sleepy and disheveled in their bed as she readied for London. Her eyes flashed open and she gracefully ducked to the side and took a step back, still smiling as Simon looked at her bewildered before smoothly replacing his confused expression with a wry upturn of his lips.

"I should be getting home, Mr Bricker. Thank you so much for the lovely evening." Cora stated effortlessly, smoothing down her jacket and dress, the fidgeting of her hands the only outward sign that their almost encounter had shaken her.

Simon Bricker tipped his hat. "It was a pleasure, Lady Grantham. Please allow me to accompany you home."

"Oh no, no! I'll just fetch a cab." Cora said hastily, not wanting to give either of them any more opportunities to be alone.

"But I would hate to send you out into the night alone. If anything should…" Bricker was cut off by the measured echo of footsteps coming closer to them.

"She won't be alone." Robert interrupted, having walked quickly to the pair after seeing Cora's swift maneuvering out of Bricker's reach.

Cora looked up at him with startled, wide eyes. Her lips trembled into a perfect 'O' and Robert smiled calmly before offering her his arm. After the three exchanged falsely pleasant goodbyes, Robert steered Cora back in the direction of Grantham House.

"Robert…" Cora began when they were safely far enough away from Simon.

"You look beautiful tonight, you know." Robert interjected, taking a sideways glance at his wife. Her hand was stiff on his arm, clutching him tightly and he could tell by her rapid breathing that she was frightened of what he had seen. He paused on the street and looked at her as she searched his eyes for some insight into his mindset. Robert reached out and ran his finger gently down the side of Cora's face and she sighed.

"I don't blame Bricker for almost forgetting himself." Robert said quietly and Cora's heavy lidded eyes shot up again to meet his.

"I also wouldn't have blamed you for wanting to get back at me for…." Robert stuttered, unable to complete his thoughts.

Cora took Robert's hand, forcing him to look at her again. "It wouldn't have been fair, to anyone. I love you, Robert, despite mistakes we both made. And love is not vindictive. I've forgiven you. I think it's time you forgive yourself."

Robert bit his lip as his chin began to quiver. Cora took a step closer and stood on the tips of her feet, placing her hands on his lapels. "I know it isn't proper," she whispered, "but I think you should kiss me now and let us not dwell on any of this anymore."

"I don't deserve you." Robert said, shaking his head.

"Of course you do. We deserve each other." Robert tasted Cora's words on his lips as he bridged the gap between them and captured her mouth with his.


End file.
